Docchi bent double and the dark figure on his back came over his head like a knife from a sheath. The pilot was lifted off his feet and slammed to the floor.
"Jordan," gurgled the pilot.
"It's me," said Jordan. He wrapped one arm around the pilot's throat and clamped tight. With the other he felt for the toaster the pilot still held but hadn't time to use. Effortlessly he tore it away and hammered the man unconscious with the butt. He stopped just short of smashing the skull. Docchi stood ineffectually by, kicking where he could, but the action was fast and he had no arms.
But Jordan didn't need help. "Let there be light," he said when he was finished, and there was—a feeble flickering illumination from Docchi.
Jordan balanced himself with his hands. He had a strong head and massive powerful arms and shoulders. His body stopped below his chest, there was no more. A round metal capsule contained his digestive organs. Accidentals were indeed the odds and ends of creation, and of Jordan one end was missing. But the part that remained made up for the loss.
"Dead?" Docchi glanced down at the pilot.
Jordan rocked forward and listened for the heartbeat. "Nah," he said. "I was going to clout him again but I remembered we can't afford to kill anybody."
"See that you don't forget," said Docchi. He stifled an exclamation as something coiled around his leg. Jumping forward he broke loose from the thing that caught him.
"Repair robot," chuckled Jordan, looking around. "The place is lousy with them."
Docchi blinked on and off in confusion and the robot rolled clumsily toward him.